Mitchell zeroed in on James, who was standing perfectly still amidst the chaos. She stomped across the ruined gifts, crushing a plastic toy beneath her heavy boot.
"You the one responsible for this ghetto circus, boy?" Mitchell spat, getting inches from James's face. "Time to shut it down and learn your place. Turn around and put your hands behind your back."
The father stood motionless, his face a mask of controlled fury. He looked at the ruined cake, then at his terrified son, and finally back to the corrupt lieutenant.
"I suggest you take a step back, Lieutenant Mitchell," James said. His voice wasn't loud, but it carried a razor-sharp edge of authority that made Barnes and Cruz hesitate.
Mitchell laughed harshly. "Are you resisting? Because I would love an excuse to—"
"Badge number 4492," James interrupted, his voice echoing in the dead silence of the park. "On June 14th, you accepted twenty thousand dollars in a duffel bag on 4th Street. On July 2nd, you authorized the illegal raid on the rec center to cover up Officer Cruz's narcotics theft."
Mitchell's smug smile evaporated. The color drained from her face as James slowly reached into his jacket. Barnes drew his weapon, but James's hand emerged holding not a gun, but a solid gold FBI shield in a leather case. With his other hand, he twisted his wedding ring, activating the emergency beacon.
"Special Agent James Thompson, Federal Bureau of Investigation," James said, stepping forward so Mitchell had to back up. "And you are under arrest for racketeering, civil rights violations, extortion, and conspiracy to distribute narcotics."